


5.55

by WindStainedDreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: 55 Fiction, Addiction, Crime, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen, Murder, Newspaper Article, Single Word Sentences, Various Styles, dialogue only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindStainedDreams/pseuds/WindStainedDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 5 55 Fiction pieces surrounding the same events, from different times and perspectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5.55

‘FAMILY DISCOVERS BODY WASHED UP ON SUNNY BEACH SHORE.’

Saturday afternoon the McLullans stumbled upon a body at Sunny Beach. Police say that they are investigating the corpse, but that they have no leads as of yet. They believe cause of death was an accident, although nothing has been confirmed. Who was this floating body? 

 

Pain. Flash. Hand. Water. Flash. Lightning. Pale. Flash. Dark. Cold. Tears. Disbelief. Flash. Anger. Emptiness. Flash. Bars. Grey. Flash. Funeral. Drugs. Prison. Flash. Love. Need. Flash. Sun. Joy. Flash. Memories. Flash. Roses. Lilies. Flash. Sympathy. Flash. Contempt. Flash. Betrayal. Crying. Flash. Feeling. Numb. Flash. Blank. Emotions. Flash. Smile. Flash. Son. Gone. Flash. Wife. Flash. Dead. 

 

“Hello?”  
“Sir, your neighbours called. They think something may have happened to your wife.”  
“That’s impossible. She went back into town two days ago.”  
“They mentioned seeing a young man arguing with her before she left.”  
“I didn't notice anything.”  
“We found her car yesterday. Not her.”  
The flash of a hand in stormy waters. 

 

The deep lake continued to fill with water as the storm raged on. The body drifted down the river, bloated beyond the hope of recognition. The boatman could have sworn he saw a pale, blue hand, but by the time he looked back, it was gone beneath the waves. He never considered looking again. 

 

“My son?” he said, “Last I heard, he was a junkie.”  
“Is this him?” the detective showed him to an observation room, a young man behind the glass, a picture of his wife on the table.  
“Yes...he, he...killed her?”  
“The partial print we found says so.”  
“My son...my son!” The glass shook.


End file.
